


Sempiternal Redamancy

by loki_dokey



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Battlefield, F/M, War, immortal! bellamy, immortal! clarke, infirmary, nurse! clarke, princess! clarke, soldier! bellamy, thief! bellamy, thief! clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4559613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_dokey/pseuds/loki_dokey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blake siblings are immortal. It's not often Bellamy meets someone who catches his attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> "Bellarke immortal au where they are immortal (obvs) and they bump into each other at basically every large historical event. It's gotten annoying. (They try to hide their immortality from the other by making up names and all that stuff because they're DORKS)"
> 
> A prompt from Tumblr that I'm working from for this fic. I've altered it slightly but the idea is great :D 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_22 nd June, 1706_

Bellamy was proud of himself. He had learnt the dance moves, he had the clothes and he had a mask. By taking out one of the solo attendees with a swift jab to the neck and hiding their unconscious body behind a large bush, he had managed to obtain an invitation.

 _To dearest Mister Gerald Thwaite,_ it read. He shrugged. He could absolutely be a ‘Gerald Thwaite’ for an evening.

Bellamy adjusted his black Venetian mask whilst the servant at the door of the palace eyed his stolen invitation. The thief gave the servant a dirty, mischievous smirk when the invitation was accepted and he was allowed into the ballroom. With a wink, Bellamy joined the throng of well-dressed royals, lords and ladies. The moment he was in, Bellamy got to work.

He spied the thrones at the other end of the room, with the Queen and King seated there, the princess’ throne empty beside them. Bellamy knew that the royal’s gold was kept in the west tower, and he knew the route to get there. The door to the staircase was right behind the King and Queen. All he had to do was slip through the door without being noticed. He just needed a distraction.

Just as he was about to start towards the banquet table to grab a bite to eat before making any drastic moves, a hand grabbed his shoulder. He spun around, sighing when his eyes found those of his sister, peering at him through the eye holes of her own black mask.

“How did you recognise me?” he whispered, pulling her to the side and frowning. “I’m wearing a damned mask!”

Octavia chuckled. “Bell, I’ve been trailing you for weeks. I saw you take out that gentleman outside, so I knocked a girl unconscious to take her invitation too.” She took a bite of an apple she’d grabbed from the table. “I also saw you buy your mask last week so I bought my own just in case.”

“Why have you been following me?” Bellamy hissed. He was annoyed. He hadn’t seen her in at least three years and she hadn’t even had the decency to say hello.

“I wanted to see what you’re like.” Octavia shrugged. “If you’re respectable.” At this, they both snorted. Respectable certainly wasn’t a word to describe either of them. “I’m only joking with you. I wanted to see how you’re faring these days when it comes to getting by. I can only _assume_ from what you’re doing here that you think you can get hold of some fancy man’s gold?”

“Not just any fancy man’s gold,” Bellamy scoffed. “The King and Queen’s.”

Octavia’s eyes went wide. “You aren’t serious? You’ll never manage that. There are too many guards around.”

“All I’ve got to do is get through that door.” He pointed. “Plus, what are they going to do if they catch me? Kill me?” Bellamy laughed loudly. He’d love to see them try. Octavia whacked him on the arm.

“Do shut up,” she snapped. “Don’t suggest something so stupid.”

Bellamy poked his tongue out. “What are you going to do about it?”

Octavia sighed and crossed her arms, scanning the room with narrowed eyes. “There’s nothing I can do. You’re your own man. Just don’t be a prat and get caught.”

“When have I _ever_ been caught?”

“Uh, I don’t know. When you tried to climb into that woman’s chambers that time; when you tried to steal the jewels from the merchant in Venice...”

“Okay, okay! The question was rhetorical!” Bellamy raised his hands in defence and grinned sheepishly. “Not everyone’s perfect.” Octavia hummed sarcastically in agreement. “I’m going to scope out the guard set up of the room. _You_ stay out of my way.”

He swaggered his way across the dance floor, finding the first single lady he could so that he could ask her to dance. She agreed very quickly, flushing and flustering at being ‘chosen’, which boosted Bellamy’s ego just a little.

Using his blushing dance partner as a façade, he scanned the room for the whereabouts of the guards and the royals. The King and Queen were still seated on their thrones, and there were guards posted at every corner and at every door. Just as he was bringing his eyes back to those of his dancing lady, he caught sight of a beautiful, voluptuous blonde standing by the edge of the dance floor, gazing at him. She had an intricate golden mask and an incredible golden dress that swept across the floor beside her. Her breasts were perched precariously in her corset. Bellamy was captivated, and not just by her breasts. She was absolutely enchanting.

“Excuse me,” he muttered to his dance partner, before abandoning her and sauntering across to the blonde. She eyed him curiously as he bowed and flashed her a wolfish grin. “Good evening.”

She smiled warmly at him and curtsied. “Good evening. I would introduce myself but I do think that would quite spoil the fun of the masquerade, don’t you?”

“Indeed it would.” He offered his arm to her. “Would you care to dance? You look ever so lonely.”

The woman glanced from left to right, biting her bottom lip under her teeth. Eventually, she nodded. “I would love to.” Then she was the one to flash _him_ a wicked grin. “As long as you can keep up.”

True, her dancing skills were impeccable. She glided across the floor with him as if her feet barely touched the ground. Her eyes stayed locked on his for most of the dance; he was firmly under whatever spell she had cast upon him. They waltzed this way and that, gasping slightly each time their hands came into contact as and when the dance so required. The touch was electric. They must have been a spectacle, because a few people had stopped dancing to watch them.

As the piece of music came to an end, Bellamy and the woman made their way back to where they had met, laughing and chatting. She was very intellectual, well-spoken and interesting. For a while, Bellamy had forgotten why he was even in the palace at all.

“Would you oblige me in a walk around the gardens?” he asked, praying the hopefulness in his words wasn’t too pathetically obvious. “It’s a beautiful night.”

A pink tinge speckled her cheeks as she nodded, wrapping her arm around his and allowing him to guide her towards the open doors. Octavia stood with her back against the wall, flashing him a look that said ‘what on earth are you doing?’ He gave her a slight shrug in reply, because he didn’t really know the answer to that question.

“So what is it you do for a living?” the woman asked.

“I partake in odd jobs here and there,” Bellamy answered somewhat truthfully. In reality, he was a thief, living for the thrill of the steal and for the various places that thieving took him. But when he was feeling like being as normal as an immortal person could possibly be, he would take up jobs where he could find them just to pass the time. “What about you?”

“I work in the palace,” she sighed, looking away from him. “It’s not particularly as joyous as you may think.”

A palace worker? Could she help him steal the gold? They could run away together...

No. Bellamy was getting ahead of himself. He barely knew this girl and she could easily turn him in.

“What do you do in the palace?” He instead tried to indulge her.

She had a strange expression in response to that question. “Um, I clean? It’s actually very boring.”

They continued walking until they reached a fountain. In the moonlight, the woman was even more stunning. Her eyes reflected the stars and he found himself immersed in thinking about what her lips tasted like.

“Come and work with me,” he offered, not really sure of what he was saying because he was too distracted by the beauty spot above her lip.

“What?” She was taken aback. “Work with _you_?”

He frowned. “You make it sound as though I’m some kind of scoundrel!” (Which he was, to be honest)

“No! No that’s not what I meant...I mean that I couldn’t simply just leave the palace...”

Bellamy smirked, pulling her to a bench and bringing her down to sit next to him. “Have you signed some kind of life contract?”

Her eyes turned sad. “Of sorts.”

“Run away. With me. I’ll teach you everything I know and we’ll work together.”

She laughed at this. “You said you do various things. What is that you think you can teach me explicitly?”

Bellamy’s stomach turned. Should he? _Should he?_

“I’m actually a thief,” he whispered, leaning close to her. “I steal things for a living and I’m actually here on a job.”

She gasped, but moved closer. He swore he caught her staring at _his_ lips. “You do?”

“Yes.” Now he was staring at hers. “I steal all sorts of things. Jewels, papers, gold, silver. I’m very good at it.”

“Really...” They were less than a hair’s breadth apart now. Bellamy stroked her face with his thumb and tilted her head back.

“Really. I want you to help me on my job.”

“W-what is it that you are here to steal?” She clutched his hand, which was still resting on her cheek.

“Gold. Lots of gold. You work here. Help me and you can be rid of this place. I can show you the world and you can be free. With me.”

At this, she grabbed his face and pulled his lips to her own. She tasted like strawberries and champagne. He wasn’t sure what it was that he had said. She kissed him hungrily, as if she couldn’t get enough. He kissed her back with a reciprocating amount of urgency. Her hands tangled in his hair and pulled him in closer. Bellamy placed one hand behind her back and another on the back of her head. Their mouths moved in sync and he had to admit that when she moaned softly, it went straight to his crotch. He couldn’t help but moan in response, which seemed to make her squirm too.

“Clarke!” a voice barked. The girl pulled away instantly, fumbling with her mask and dress. The King and Queen, of _all_ people, were standing a few feet away. They looked...well, they looked angry. Then it hit him. Clarke was the name of the...

“Princess? You’re the _princess?_ ” he choked, standing and backing away in disbelief.  He’d kissed the _princess._

 _He’d told the princess that he wanted to steal her family’s gold_.

Bellamy wanted to kick himself. He was a goner. He was going to get caught again just like Octavia said, and then he would be at the brunt of her saying “I told you so”.

“Yes,” the girl muttered. “I’m the princess.”

“Clarke, please go back inside,” the Queen ordered. “I think you’ve had quite enough of mingling with the...” She looked Bellamy up and down. “...common folk.”

Bellamy had only just been able to swallow the fact that he’d danced with the _princess,_ and now he was being called ‘common folk’?

“This boy broke into this ball without an invitation. He assaulted a member of parliament and hid him behind a bush outside of the palace. He is a charlatan who had the audacity to kiss the princess. _My_ daughter. I am disgusted.”

“You don’t understand, I _am_ Gerald Thwaite!”  

“Gerald Thwaite is a good friend to the royal court, who appeared outside the palace doors about ten minutes ago. He was extremely disgruntled and eager to see you captured.” The Queen peered down her nose at Bellamy. “You knocked out the wrong man, you fool.” She turned to the King. “Call the guards.”

Bellamy gulped around the lump in his throat.

The princess – Clarke – was clearly very upset. Her eyes were brimming. “Mother, please. Please don’t kill him! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“He broke into a private event, Clarke,” the King had sighed. “He assaulted a government official.”

The Queen didn’t speak for a while. She simply regarded Bellamy, who stood there in silence.

“GUARDS!” she shrieked eventually.

Bellamy’s heart sank. What happened next was a blur. Clarke started yelling at her mother about something whilst three guards came and grabbed him. Something hard smacked him on the side of the head. The last thing he remembered was Clarke’s helpless face staring at his.

*

The cell was dank; it smelt like rotten food and human waste. Bellamy was annoyed that Octavia hadn’t found a way to get him out yet. He was done with counting the bricks on the wall.

“Hey!” He glanced up. The whispered ‘hey’ had come from none other than Clarke, who was now wearing horse-riding gear and no mask. She was somehow even _more_ beautiful than he imagined she would be.

“Clarke? What are you doing here?” Bellamy grabbed the bars, desperate to just _touch_ her.

She produced a set of keys from behind her and jangled them, smiling proudly. “I just knocked out a guard.” She said it as though she were more surprised at herself than anything else.

Bellamy was impressed. That must have taken some guts. “So you’ve just come to tell me that?”

Clarke scowled. “No, you _scoundrel_ ,” she chuckled, quoting him. A key slipped into the lock. “I’m here to let you out.”

The moment the door was open, he grabbed her waist and kissed her deeply. Her response was instant, grasping his hair again and shoving him against the wall.

After a few moments, she broke the kiss. “You have to leave. We haven’t got much time before the guard wakes up.”

From her bag, she produced a rather large cloth sack. “Here. It’s gold. It’ll be enough to support you for months. It’s also all I could get my hands on.”

Bellamy gazed at her in awe. “Clarke...you didn’t have to do that.”

She shrugged, brushing some hair from her eyes. “I know. But I want you to be okay. Despite the fact that you’re a thief and that you live on the illegal side of life, you intrigue me. You’re the kind of man I’ve always wanted. Adventurous. Handsome. Free.” The last word slipped miserably from her lips.

God, this girl was something else. “Run away with me, please.” He didn’t want to sound desperate.

But he was.

She laughed, sad-eyed, and shook her head. “I can’t. This kingdom is mine upon my mother’s death. I owe it to the family and the kingdom to take the throne and rule. It’s kind of my job.”

A lump formed in his throat. He knew she couldn’t leave. “Clarke. You’ll be fantastic.”

There was a grunt from the hallway. The guard was waking up.

“Go!” she urged, pointing. “Don’t stop running until you reach the wall. There’s a rope there ready for you to use to climb over it. Then keep running until you’re safe.”

Once again, he pressed his lips against hers.

“May we meet again,” he whispered, resting his forehead on hers.

“May we meet again,” she replied.

Bellamy took off, running past the guard and out through the open prison door. He didn’t stop running.

He also didn’t stop thinking about Clarke.

 _May we meet again_ rang in his ears.

Little did Bellamy Blake know that he would meet Clarke Griffin again, but in _very_ different circumstances. 


	2. Are You Really Here or Am I Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy runs into someone he recognises - not something that commonly happens to an immortal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ladies and gentlemen! 
> 
> The title of this chapter is a lyric from 'If You Want Me' from Once, the musical! (I now have the album on shuffle and I am NOT CRYING DOn@T EVEN SUGGEST IT THERE ARE NO TEARS HERE
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it! 
> 
> Just to clarify, I haven't written in three years. University meant that writing was on the back seat. And when I say backseat I mean like, the backseat of a car that's fifty thousand miles behind yours in a traffic jam. 
> 
> So if the writing isn't great, I might be rusty haha!

_20 th June, 1837_

The streets were packed; everyone was excitable and giddy, including Bellamy. He had always been a history fanatic, so attending events he presumed would be classed as ‘historical’ was right up his alley.

“Can’t we just go and get a drink?” Jasper groaned from beside him. He, on the other hand, was _not_ as keen.

Bellamy had met Jasper through Octavia. Over the years, Octavia and Bellamy had discovered that they were not the only immortals walking the earth. Octavia now had a small crew of immortals that she ran with, but Bellamy and Jasper had struck a chord when they met so decided to travel together on their own.

“Jasper,” Bellamy sighed. “This is the coronation of a new British monarch. Victoria is going to be fantastic, I just know it.” He threw his arms out wide, gesturing at all the stalls and high spirits around them.

“Yeah, I’m seeing it, I’m seeing it. I’m sure I’d enjoy it all a lot more if I had a beer in my hand...”

Bellamy nudged him on the arm. “Do shut up. I’ll buy you a drink later. How’s that?”

Shifting his top hat back into a proper position on his head, Bellamy looked about the crowd as Jasper muttered something about injustice. Bellamy took in all of the wealthy people around them. Plenty of brimming pockets to dip one’s hand into. It appeared that Jasper had obtained some coins himself in the time that Bellamy had been scanning the immediate area.

“Well done,” Bellamy chuckled as Jasper pocketed the change, beaming at him. Together, they strolled amongst the crowds, hands darting this way and that. They grabbed what they could, not bothering to see what their winnings were; they’d do that later over a beer at the inn where they were staying. Jasper was, in all fairness, much lither and smaller than Bellamy. He more often than not brought in more loot when it came to pick-pocketing.

Soon, however, Bellamy’s pockets were bulging with goods. He felt proud of himself, as he always did after a good haul. They made their way down the cobbled Mall, Buckingham Palace itself looming before them. Royal guards on their black horses trotted down the street. One made eye contact with Bellamy; Bellamy tipped his hat and smirked. Little did the guard know that Bellamy had just rinsed about twenty people of their money, and it was always the getting away with the steal that bequeathed Bellamy his passion for thieving.

Suddenly, the huge crowd rushed forward to the barrier, screaming and waving wildly.

“She’s coming,” Jasper announced, pointing back down the Mall. Bellamy span around; lo and behold, there she was. In her miraculous golden carriage, the beautiful new Queen Victoria headed towards Buckingham Palace. She waved and smiled at the crowds. Bellamy wondered just how much that carriage was worth. He was certain that the red stones glinting in the sunlight were real rubies, which alone were worth more than he could bear to imagine.

Her carriage rolled past, with both Bellamy and Jasper ogling at the beauty of its adornments of jewels and gold. Lost in the moment, Bellamy barely noticed the tugging feeling on the right side of his jacket. When he shook himself, he glanced down and backwards. His eyes met with those of a blonde female, who looked like a deer who had just heard a gunshot. Her hand was buried deep in his pocket.

“Shit!” he snapped as she scarpered, _his_ gold in _her_ hand. He immediately took off after her, pushing his way through the crowd who were themselves oblivious. “Get back here!”

Bellamy didn’t know if Jasper was behind him because he didn’t have time to check; she was fast. She ran through Trafalgar Square and every so often he would lose her amongst the people. They raced past The National Gallery and up the street until she took a sharp right down an alley. When Bellamy turned the corner, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“You’re _such_ a fool!”

There she stood, trapped against a solid brick wall. The alley was a dead-end. The darkness obscured her features, but he could make out that she was short and dressed all in black. Her blonde hair was tied back and she was wearing trousers, a long coat and heeled boots. She looked the part, but to Bellamy she could not _play_ the part of a thief.

“Look, if you want your gold back, just take it. I can’t deal with any more crap today.” She tossed the gold on the ground and it scattered everywhere. Bellamy ignored it.

“Well aren’t you a little madam,” he chuckled, taking a step towards her. She drew a gun from a holster under her coat. “Now now. Why don’t you put that away?” He took another step.

The woman motioned at his feet with her gun. “Why don’t you _fuck off_?”

He laughed again. This just made her visibly angrier.

“You stole my gold. No one gets to steal from me and simply walk away.” Bellamy drew a knife from his belt. “Let’s make this a fair fight, shall we?”

She cocked her head to the side and bit her lip. Bellamy loved it when girls bit their lips. It had been a kink of his for a long time.

“Fine.” The woman didn’t sound happy. She placed her gun on the floor and whipped out a knife, brandishing it at him. “Think you’ve got what it takes?”

“To take on a tragically terrible thief such as yourself? Please.” Bellamy stepped forward and so did she, both bracing themselves for attack. The light of the sun glinted into the alleyway as it broke through the clouds, and for the first time he could actually see her face.

It wasn’t often that Bellamy remembered a person. In fact, it was an absolute rarity. When one has lived hundreds of years, people and places become blurry and forgettable.

But how could he forget that face. He’d seen that face in his dreams for a hundred years. His knife clattered to the floor.

“C-Clarke?” he spluttered, unsure of what to do with himself. It was his princess, from the masquerade ball...how was she here? She couldn’t be...?

“Fuck. Bellamy?” Clarke stumbled backwards, smacking into the wall and sliding to the floor. Both of them stared at one another in silence for what seemed like an age.

“I...what? How?” Bellamy managed eventually, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

Clarke bit her lip again. _The kink had come from Clarke_ , Bellamy remembered.

“I stopped aging at around twenty five. I realised when I got to fifty and looked the same as I did when I had been young that something wasn’t right. I faked my own death to escape my kingdom and try to work out who and what I was. I...I’m immortal. I can’t die. Trust me, I know. It’s tried and tested.” She gestured at him. “I’m assuming you’re...you’re the same?”

Bellamy nodded.

“I thought I was the only one.”

Bellamy nodded, then realised what he was doing and shook his head both at her and at himself.

“No, no. There’s a few of us. My sister and my friend Jasper included. We don’t know how many others there are or why we exist at all. Sadly I don’t have an origin story for you.” He walked towards her and held his hands out. She took them and climbed to her feet. As though unsteady on her feet, she fell against him before pushing away and brushing her hair from her face.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she croaked, touching his face with her fingertips. Bellamy shuddered and leant into the touch. It was _Clarke._

“And I can’t believe it’s you, princess. You’re...immortal.”

“Right?” She chuckled strangely and pulled her hand away. The loss of her touch was almost painful. “What’s stranger is how it almost doesn’t feel like that long ago that we last saw each other.”

He understood what she meant. She was still equally as beautiful and his heart skipped a beat the same way it had done all those many years ago.

Her hands grasped his tightly. “I’m so happy to see you.” She grinned.

“You’re not alone anymore, Clarke,” Bellamy said softly, stroking her hair.

“Oh Bellamy! I’m not alone.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m...engaged.”

His hands dropped from hers and his heart sank through his feet, into the ground and down into the fiery depths of hell itself. “ _What_?”

“I’m engaged,” she repeated. She looked at her feet. “To a man. We’re to, um, be married in September.” She bit her lip again. _God damn those lips. Those taken lips._

“No, I know what engaged means. But you’re engaged? To a mortal?”

“Yes!” She was frowning now. “Have you got a problem with that?”

Bellamy sighed and took a very deep breath in. “No. But you have.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know how you’re, uh, _immortal,_ yes?” Bellamy was aware that he was being a drawling bitter man. “See, he’s going to die one day and you’re, uh, not? Also he’s going to age and you’re, uh, _not?”_

Clarke placed her hands on her hips and glared at him with venom. “I’m aware.”

“Then why do this to yourself? If you love him, walk away. It’ll just hurt more in the long run as you watch him grow old and die!”

“Who says I love him?”

This caught Bellamy off-guard. “Huh?”

“Who says I’m not marrying the guy just to gain access to his wealth, then disappear from his life forever?” Clarke stepped forward. She placed her hands on Bellamy’s shoulders. Her breasts pressed against his chest. “I’m very good at disappearing.”

Bellamy didn’t know what to say. All he could think about was the strawberry and champagne lips that were inches from his own. The lips that had been on his mind for a hundred years. Clarke’s hands slipped up to his neck. She pulled their foreheads together.

“I’m not an idiot, Bellamy,” she whispered. “I may not be the greatest pick pocket, but I sure as hell can work my way around a rich man.” Her tongue traced her top lip. The crotch of his pants was tight and his heart was racing. Clarke was _fantastic._

“Can you now?” he replied, voice breaking embarrassingly. “What if I tell you that I’m a rich man?” He grabbed her hand and shoved it into his still-full left pocket. He wrapped her hand around the gold pieces. She grinned mischievously at him.

“Then it looks like I’ve got a job to do.” They leant towards each other, breath hot and laboured.

“Fuck sake,” came a horribly familiar voice from behind them. “You tell me I can’t have a drink because you want to watch a bloody carnival and now you’re off with some woman? I hate you, Bellamy Blake.”

The named span around and glowered at Jasper with all his might. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Jasper walked up to Clarke and offered a hand. She shook it, an eyebrow raised. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, ma’am.” Jasper bowed like a prat. “The name’s Jasper.”

“Ah!” Clarke squeaked, recognition dawning on her face. “The other immortal!”

Jasper shot Bellamy a look. “I’m sorry? How does she know?”

Bellamy was about to reply when six police officers stormed the alleyway.

“There she is!” one of them yelled, pointing at Clarke.

“Get the bitch!” another cried furiously.

Bellamy’s eyes snapped to Clarke’s.

“They want me for a murder I didn’t even commit!” she blurted, grabbing Bellamy’s shirt. “You have to believe me! I didn’t kill my fiancé’s previous wife. I didn’t! Whatever you hear, whatever they say, it’s not true!”

Lost and concerned, Bellamy shoved her behind him and faced the oncoming officers. They wouldn’t just take her, not with Bellamy around.

“Get out of the way, son. We’ve been trailing her all day and you have to let us take her in.”

“We have no reason to harm you, kid.”

“Give us the girl. Now!”

They raised their truncheons, threatening.

“Don’t you touch her,” Bellamy spat. “I won’t allow it.”

Despite his warning words, he was helpless. They had nowhere to go. All he had was a knife, her gun was on the floor and Jasper had lost his gun the previous week. They were outmatched. All they had were their fists and a couple of knives. The officers advanced.

The last thing Bellamy remembers after being smacked around the head with multiple truncheons is Clarke being dragged away down the alley. When Bellamy’s head hits the floor, everything goes black.

Clarke is gone.

*

Bellamy and Jasper searched for Clarke for weeks. Then months. Then it hit the year and a half mark. At that point, Jasper gave up and eventually threatened to leave Bellamy who was living on false hope that they’d find her. The two immortals had scoured Central London, they’d scoured Outer London. They’d journeyed South and West and East. It was in the North that Jasper decided that enough was enough.

Bellamy was without his princess once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you liked what you read, why not leave a comment? Perhaps give me an idea as to what historical event the two could meet at next! 
> 
> BTW if you have any prompts (I AM A SUCKER FOR WRITING SHORT FLUFF FICS PLS PLS GIVE ME THE PLEASURE OF YOUR IDEAS) then send me a message on Tumblr (loki-dokey.tumblr.com)


	3. A Pulse in the Eternal Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War means wounds and battle scars, but when you're immortal life is one long battle. The scars themselves will likely be deep and unfading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the poem comes from 'The Soldier', a WW1 poem by Rupert Brooke. I'm a sucker for WW1 history so this chapter was a pleasure to write for me. 
> 
> Your comments are glorious and keep my passion burning for this fic. I don't know how much more there will be, but stick with me and we'll see it through to the end :) 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment if you like it and to let me know what you think! :D

_3 rd December, 1916_

“You know, this was a good idea when we first started. When we were all ‘hey let’s go to war because it’ll be hilarious to not die’. But now that we’ve made friends with these people and I have to watch them blow up every day? It’s kind of shit.”

Jasper heaved the body of Arthur Jones onto the cart, beside the body of young George Williams. Jasper grimaced at Bellamy when a bit of loose, bloodied flesh slopped off the cart and onto his boot.  

“Jones was a pig who fucked anything that moved on leave despite having a loving wife and four kids. He deserved to die,” Bellamy spat in disgust, leaning against the cart. His anger twisted into deep sadness as Jasper’s words rang true in his heart. “It was Williams who shouldn’t have died. He was a good kid.” He looked at the lifeless face of Williams. “A real good kid.”

“And Hunter and Fisher and Davis. Not to mention half the rest of our battalion. They were _all_ ‘good kids’.” Jasper Jordan shoved his hands into his pockets, sulking. “Sometimes I hate being immortal.”

Bellamy didn’t reply. He knew it was true, and yes, sometimes being immortal sucked. Like right at that moment, when his friends’ bodies lay still and empty. Despite their feelings, Jasper and Bellamy couldn’t just back out. They’d signed up for war; they were stuck.  

 “On your next leave, could you at _least_ visit Kane in the infirmary back home? He was a good friend. He deserves a visit from one of us. And I _know_ you have leave soon.”

Kane had been like a father figure to the two immortals. Kind of ironic, Bellamy had often mused, seeing as they were both more than eight times his age. But his demeanour and kind manner were enchanting and warming to the boys on cold, harsh winter nights in the trenches. The man had only gone and gotten his leg blown off in a shell blast a month previously.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay. I’ll visit Kane. I was planning on doing that anyway. But I’m sleeping like, the rest of the time I’m home.”

*

The infirmary was grim. It was filled to bursting point with blown-up soldiers, body bits hanging off, who were groaning and crying for their mothers. Bellamy walked through the sea of beds with his military hat tucked under his arm. Some of the more healed, mentally stable soldiers saluted him as he passed their beds. He saluted back, meaning it more than ever before. He was certain that over towards the back, some poor codger had died. There were hushed voices and a crowd of nurses around the bed that didn’t sound like they were too happy.

Eventually, Bellamy made it to Kane. The man smiled brightly up at him, despite having one less leg than Bellamy had last seen him with. The stump was bandaged well, upon Bellamy’s inspection. The nurse had done a good job wrapping it up. Kane thanked him over and over again for stopping by; that it had really made his day. Bellamy hushed him and assured his friend that he was there and that was that, and that he knew Kane would have done the same for him.

Kane was in high spirits, happy to be alive and heading back to his wife and three children. He said that they were absolutely desperate to have him home. Kane asked after Bellamy’s family, which of course he had no idea was actually made up for the sake of argument in the trenches. It also had allowed Bellamy to occupy his imagination with what his family would have been like, had he had one.

It had consisted of his lost love Clarke being his wife (talk of which made always made Jasper’s eyes roll if he was in earshot), with two small tots running about at waist height. The boy, Augustus, was a spitting image of Clarke. A mop of blond curls and magical eyes that sucked you in. The girl, Aurora (named after his mother) was like Bellamy himself. She had long black hair that reached her lower back and freckles that dappled across her nose, cheeks and shoulders. He’d loved inventing stories that involved his little imaginary family.

At that moment, a nurse came by to check on Kane. Bellamy continued to chat to him, not looking at the nurse as she tottered back and forth, offering medicines and a glass of water.

“Thank you, Clarke. You’re an angel,” Kane chimed, sipping his meds down. A prickle of electricity shot down Bellamy’s spine. He went rigid with the feeling, not knowing quite what to do. Clarke was a popular name nowadays...

...Wasn’t it?

Surely not.

It couldn’t _actually_ be her.

Not after all this time.

...It would be impossible.

Despite himself, Bellamy managed to turn his neck in the direction of where the nurse was. Or had been, since she was no longer there. Instead, a nurse was walking away, skirt swishing behind her. She had blonde hair wrapped into a tight bun. There was no way he’d know unless he...

“Kane, I’ll be right back.”

Kane didn’t have much chance to reply; Bellamy was off through the infirmary, darting between nurses and patients alike. She was still ahead of him, walking as though on a mission. He picked up speed, now gently jogging to catch up with her. His heart was pounding in his chest, as if pleading to burst from his ribcage. Death by ruptured chest would be sweeter than it not being his Clarke. Eventually he was there. Right behind her. One touch on the shoulder and she’d turn around. He’d dreamt about this moment for so long.

His skin was on fire; his mouth was dry as a desert. He tried to speak, but instead a choked “Hello?” came out that was barely understandable. It must have caught her attention, because she stopped.

She turned.

Bellamy felt like every part of his vitality drained from him. He numbed. He crippled to the floor, the not-Clarke woman grabbing him by the arms as he went. The nurse helped him onto a chair, her words hundreds of miles away from where Bellamy’s mind was at. He couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear anything. He was a broken man.

A hard, sharp pain on his right cheek stunned him into the now. The nurse was kneeling in front of him, hand raised.

“Are you gonna answer me, or am I gonna have to slap ya again?” she snapped in a thick Irish accent. “Don’t make me!” She flexed her palm and he winced. Her stern expression melted into a grin. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “What have we got here, hmm?”

“A broken-hearted idiot,” Bellamy muttered, not meeting her gaze. “I thought you were someone I used to know.”

The nurse tutted and sighed sadly, removing her hand and wiping his sweat off onto her pinafore. “We get that a lot here, my love. Who was it that ya missed?”

Bellamy almost didn’t want to say her name. He could taste it on his tongue. Metallic and poisonous to his very soul. She was his fire but also his water. Whilst at times the thought of her ignited his very passion for living, it also doused the thought of wanting to go on with life itself. He was caught up on those fleeting, past encounters.

“Clarke. An old friend.”

The woman’s face lit up in amazement. “Ya don’t mean Miss Clarke Griffin?” Bellamy almost fell of the chair. “She’s one of our top nurses here at the infirmary!”

Bellamy was at a loss for words, he could only nod and nod. His heart raced once again as she pointed a finger in the direction from which he’d just come. True enough, there she was.

His Clarke.

Illuminated by the light of the sun through a nearby window, she positively glowed. She held a medicine tray, chatting away to a solider and oblivious to Bellamy who was gawking at her from a distance.

“It’s her,” he muttered, rising on shaky legs. “It’s _her._ ”

The nurse beside him chuckled. “For once, she dun’t look too busy. Why not go and say hello?”

“I...I can’t. It’s been too long. I-”

She smacked his arm. Hard. “Don’t ya dare tell me you’re going to run away? I see the look on ya face, ya love this girl. Go, ya damned fool!”

She essentially shoved Bellamy on his way. Bellamy hadn’t previously known what it felt like to have no legs. Now he did, he was having to grip things occasionally to steady himself. She was still there, laughing and smiling. Beautiful as she had always been.

“Clarke?” he managed. It came out as nothing but a whisper. “Clarke!” This time her name came out as a strangled shout, and she looked up in confusion. Looked him right in the eyes.

The clatter of her tray echoed around the infirmary. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. He probably did too. She didn’t say anything as she took a step towards him. It was as though she was trying to work out if he was actually real. Another step. He could see her mouth silently moulding around his name. Suddenly, she broke out into a run and slammed into him before he had time to register her quick movements.

“Bellamy, Bellamy oh my god, _Bellamy.”_ She squeezed him as hard as he squeezed her, both relishing in each other’s presence. He touched her hair, her back, her ears. He touched her where he could because she was _real._ She was _here._

“Clarke, I can’t...I can’t believe it’s you. How...how is this even possible? ”

She pulled away with tears in her eyes and laughed joyfully. This made Bellamy’s heart somersault and he laughed with her, rubbing the back of his head.

“I don’t know! I am just as shocked as you are!”

At this, one of the soldiers nearby began to wretch up coagulated blood. Clarke went to jump into action but then stalled and span back to Bellamy. She looked between him and the patient desperately.

“Go, you’re needed,” Bellamy urged, despite selfishly not wanting her to go whatsoever. The lack of touch was painful.

“I get off work at six. Meet me by the town hall?”

He nodded in agreement and darted away. One because he clearly wasn’t wanted around at a time like that, and two because he needed a breather since he had just seen and touched his Clarke.

_His Clarke._

*

She was a picture when she finally arrived at six thirty. She wore a beautiful lemon-yellow dress and a large white ribbon was tied around her waist. Her blonde hair was now out of a bun and hanging loosely, just as he remembered.  She wore a necklace of pearls and matching pearl earrings. He wanted to grab her and kiss her right then and there, but he kept his composure.

“Hello, Bellamy.”

He gulped, hopefully not noticeably. “Hello, Clarke.”

Bellamy leant forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. Her soft skin was like fire to his lips. As he pulled back, he took in that her eyes were wide and that she had gone somewhat stiff. She shifted her weight from side to side and coughed lightly.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she replied, sounding flustered and not at all honest. “Let’s get something to eat. Then we can talk. I’m starving!”

She didn’t speak at all as he followed her to a small, back-alley bar. When Clarke waved to the bartender and to the waitresses upon arrival, Bellamy realised that the bar must be a regular haunt of hers. She ordered a large glass of white wine, he ordered a whiskey and eventually they were sat opposite one another with nothing to do but drink and talk _._

Bellamy had been on edge waiting for this talk all day. He had paced and checked his watch and paced some more. Hours had trickled by like days.

“So.”

“...So.”

“How have you been, soldier?” Clarke smiled, taking a sip of her wine. “How’s life been treating you?”

Bellamy still couldn’t wrap his head around how he was here with _Clarke._ He’d even written to Jasper to tell him about the news.

“I’ve been good, I suppose. Life’s been slow. I’m still with Jasper. Do you remember him? We’ve been traipsing around looking for things to do. The war seemed like a viable option.”

“You used fighting for your country as a pastime?” She raised an eyebrow, lips thinning. Her disapproving scowl caught him off-guard.

Bellamy recoiled slightly. “...Yeah? Look, don’t hate me.” He shrugged. “An immortal’s gotta do what an immortal’s gotta do.”

“Huh. Perhaps.”

“What about you? Where has life taken you, princess?”

Her hand curled tightly around the stem of her wine glass. She didn’t reply; she instead looked past him as if her mind was elsewhere. Bellamy placed his hand on her own in an attempt at comfort, but she tugged it away as though his touch was painful.

“What?” he hissed, not wanting to cause a scene. His fingers drummed on the table as he glared. Why was she acting like this? “What’s your problem? When you see someone again you don’t treat them like they’re inferior.”

She waved her hands about, eyes going glassy. He gripped at her hand again and held it firmly, not letting her go.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Clarke!”

“Bellamy I searched for you for years!” she blubbed, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I didn’t give up, I kept going. I hoped and prayed that I’d find you but I couldn’t.” Her words came out in small chunks, broken by her sobs.

He grabbed her other hand and held it tight. His eyes were teary now. “I searched for you too. Until I couldn’t search anymore.”

Her watery eyes found his. “Bellamy.”

“Clarke, I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Bellamy.”

“Yes?”

“I couldn’t wait for you any longer. I had to move on.”

Bellamy sat back. He let go of her hands as the realisation crept into his brain like tendrils of despair.

“His name is Finn.”

Bellamy downed his whiskey, unspeaking.

“He’s mortal and I _know_ you told me that being with a mortal is stupid but we love each other!”

He wasn’t really hearing what she was saying. He _knew_ she had every right to be with someone else. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a hundred years, for god’s sake. But this had not been what he had wanted from seeing her again. He wanted her all to himself because, dammit, he was selfish as hell.

“Bellamy, _please_ say something!”

He stood. She stood. He wasn’t quite sure what to do.

_So much for not wanting to cause a scene._

“I can’t deal with this right now,” he muttered, turning away. She grabbed his arm to pull him back but he shrugged her off and stalked out of the bar.

“Bellamy Blake, you do not _own_ me!” she screeched, forcing him to sigh deeply and turn to face her. She was crying still, hands curled into fists. “I have every right to be with someone when I haven’t seen the person I love for a hundred years!”

The word ‘love’ seeped through his anger and touched him deeply. But it wasn’t enough to throw him off.

“Love? _Love?_ How can you love someone you’ve met twice before?” He spat it at her like poison on his tongue. He was such a hypocrite and he hated himself for saying it the moment the words left his lips. She looked stung and confused.

“But I thought...I thought you loved me too?” Her bottom lip shook. “We have a connection, Bellamy. That’s why we keep bumping into one another.”

He wanted to say that he agreed. He wanted to admit that he was being a huge dick, because he knew he was. He wanted to kiss the love of Finn out of her but he knew that would be terrible of him. He wanted to say that he loved her too. But he didn’t say anything. He simply turned on his heel and walked away. He walked and walked, half expecting pounding footsteps coming after him. They didn’t.

He couldn’t deal with her not wanting him, not after all he had done to find her and all the dreaming he had done about this day.

Perhaps they’d meet again.

Perhaps things would be different.

Perhaps Bellamy would regret how he handled the situation for the rest of his life. Which was a long time, considering.

Perhaps this would be the best thing for him. Walk away thinking he hated her; maybe he won’t miss her again.

*

When Jasper came back from his leave, he said that Kane was happy as always. He also said that Clarke Griffin no longer worked at the infirmary where she had been an esteemed nurse. No one knew where she had gone. She’d just disappeared.

At this point it had been four months since Bellamy Blake had last seen Clarke Griffin.

Once again, he did not know where in the world she was.

This time around the not knowing hurt more than it had ever done before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY


	4. The Summer of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power of love is a curious thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!
> 
> Also credit to my best friend Emma for her contribution of ideas for this chapter (she isn't even a fan of The 100, just shows what a good friend she is!). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! xxxxxxxxx

_17 th June, 1967 (a.k.a. ‘The Summer of Love’)_

The summer sun scorched the San Francisco area, the blazing heat causing the culmination of hippies to sweat, laugh and dance until exhaustion. Bellamy sat at his apartment window, watching them all ‘getting groovy’ below. He scowled and rolled his eyes. They were such freaks.

“If you’re just going to act judgmental, don’t bother sitting and watching,” Lincoln sighed from the couch. “But if you insist on staying there, keep an eye on O if you can. She said that Monty and Jasper had gotten hold of some of that damned moonshine.”

“I can’t see her,” grunted Bellamy. “Plus, I don’t think moonshine is our main concern. It’s all that pot they’re smoking. Turns them into idiots.” He watched as one of the precious ‘flower children’ stumbled down the steps below, proving his point. “This movement has gone too far. They all look and act so stupid.”

Lincoln was suddenly beside him, peering out of the window. He shrugged. “Come on, Bellamy. They don’t mean any harm. That’s the whole point.” He turned Bellamy towards him and threw up peace signs with his fingers. “Peace and love, man.”

Bellamy frowned again and shoved the smirking Lincoln away. The crowd below were singing along to the band playing. It was good music, which was why Bellamy was sitting by the window in the first place. He closed his eyes and tapped his foot to the beat. Thoughts drifted into his mind of how quickly the past twenty years had gone; how Lincoln had proposed to Octavia and how Monty Green had joined their crew. Monty was a quick-witted immortal who had formed an immediate bond with Jasper. Bellamy didn’t care – he’d always been a loner at heart so he could deal with his friend spending time with someone else.

The sound of the door flying open with a _bang_ stirred him from his musical reverie. Jasper himself stood in the doorway, eyes wide and face white as a sheet.

“So O took some bad smoke,” he blurted hastily, eyes darting between Lincoln and Bellamy. “She’s kind of unconscious.”

Without saying a word, the two men sprung from their seats and followed Jasper out of the building and onto the crowded street. Bellamy could feel the hairs on his neck standing up, battling against the dripping sweat that came from how nervous he was feeling. Whatever hippy scum had damaged his little sister...they’d have his fist to answer to.

Jasper dragged them through the mob of colours, sunglasses and smoke until they came upon a small group of people crowded around what was clearly a very comatose Octavia.

“Fucking hell,” Lincoln growled, shoving the hippies out of the way. Some of them giggled, clearly high as a kite. One guy was dabbing Octavia’s forehead with a wet paper towel, but Bellamy wasn’t in the mood for niceties.

“Who the fuck did this to my sister?” Bellamy grabbed the collar of the guy mopping her brow and pulled him to his feet. “Was it you, asshole?”

The guy shook his head vigorously, putting his hands up. “Hey man, I’m just trying to help a sister out. She collapsed in front of me!”

Bellamy sighed deeply and let the guy go.

“It’s no one’s fault,” a long-haired, ditzy girl piped up. “She just can’t take the weed, man.” Bellamy spun around and his glare must have given away just how pissed he was at her unnecessary comment. She simply smirked at him and stalked away.

Lincoln had taken over with mopping Octavia’s forehead. He stroked her hair and attempted to coo her into consciousness.

“She needs medical attention,” Bellamy barked at the crowd as he dropped to his knees beside her. Octavia’s eyelids were barely resting shut, so he could see a small sliver of her actual eyeball. “She’s fucking unconscious!”

Jasper jumped to his feet and disappeared.

“Medical attention right here!” came a haunting voice, drifting through the babble of those gathered around them. It slithered into Bellamy’s brain and curled itself around it like a fist squeezing the juice out of a ripened fruit. Clarke knelt next to him and hiccupped. “If there’s one thing I can do,” she slurred, pointing her finger to the sky, “it’s medicinal...medical attention.”

“Shit, if it isn’t the princess herself,” Bellamy remarked, not quite sure if she was real or if he was dreaming. She was wearing a bandana and a long, kooky skirt. A typical hippy. “Look, I don’t need the ghost of you hanging around. My sister needs actual help.”

She stared at him with huge, round eyes before she grabbed Bellamy’s arm and gripped it tightly. A little too tightly. It hurt, rousing him to realise that perhaps she _was_ really there. He seized her other hand and stared into her eyes. Her pupils were huge and her cheeks were red.

“You’re drunk,” he hissed, stroking a thumb down her face. _She was here._ “Why, after all this time, do we find each other and you’re drunk?”

She hiccupped again and shrugged. “Because I’m awesome?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense. Look, we’ll get to you in a minute. My sister needs actual medical assistance which you obviously can’t give her in this state.”

Clarke put a wobbly finger to her lips in a ‘shush’ action and looked like she was about four years old. Bellamy looked back to Lincoln, who was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll explain later.”

At that moment, Jasper returned with a paramedic who asked questions that Bellamy couldn’t particularly answer because he didn’t even know what Octavia had done to herself. Plus, he could barely think straight. Clarke was _here._ O was freaking _out for the count._  The paramedic eventually advised that Octavia would be taken to the hospital for monitoring. It felt like a stone sunk in Bellamy’s stomach. His sister had only wanted to have a good time; she didn’t deserve to wake up in a hospital bed.

“Will big brother come with her?” the paramedic asked, looking at Bellamy. He went to nod when the sound and smell of someone vomiting caused the both of them to turn around. Clarke was hunched over and throwing up with gusto.

“Shit,” the paramedic muttered as he darted to Clarke.

Bellamy didn’t quite know what to do. On one hand, he had his sister to deal with. On the other, Clarke (Clarke... _Clarke_ ) was chucking her guts up right in front of him.

“I’ve got her,” he told the paramedic, rubbing Clarke’s back as she emptied her stomach. “She’s just had too much to drink.”

The paramedic hummed, annoyed at the predicament, and crawled back to Octavia.

“Lincoln, could you go with O to the hospital?” Bellamy trusted Lincoln with his life. He could trust him to look after Octavia. Lincoln nodded. Bellamy looked down at Clarke, who had finally stopped vomiting. “I’m gonna deal with...this.”

*

Clarke was still asleep when Bellamy awoke the next morning. Upon inspection, the bucket beside the couch was empty, which was a good sign. The huge glass that had been filled with water the night before was now empty, however, so Bellamy knew she must have gotten some hydration into her system at least.

He crept down the hall to Lincoln and Octavia’s room, where with relief he saw the two of them asleep in their bed. He silently thanked whomever was above for his sister’s recovery. Walking back into the living room, he leant against the doorframe and observed the sleeping Clarke. This was the longest he’d spent in her presence and she’d been goddamn asleep most of the time.  He walked over to the couch and sat by her head. She was curled up in a tight ball, and her hair was splayed out like sunbeams across the cushion. It was longer and lighter than he remembered. Softly, he lifted her head and placed it into his lap. His hands slid through her golden strands, his fingers running along behind her ear in slow, careful motions. She sighed, smiling slightly in her sleep. Her own fingers crept up and found the hem of his shirt, which she gently curled her hand around.  They stayed that way for a long while. Bellamy wasn’t keeping track of time; he was too busy just looking at her, revelling in her utter realness.

Eventually, Clarke began to stir. Her eyes fluttered and Bellamy prepared to speak, but they fell closed once again and so he waited until her eyes finally flickered fully open. She moved onto her back and stared up at him through squinted eyelids.

“...You’re not really here,” she stated bluntly, closing her eyes again. “You’re never really here.”

Bellamy smirked. So that basically said that she’d thought about seeing him since they last met. Not that she should, he recalled. He had been an absolute piece of shit to her. He frowned just as she prised one eye open.

“Go away.”

“Clarke.”

“Mmmm.” She stretched as she sat up. He leant over and pinched her arm. Yelping, Clarke bounded to her feet. “You ass! That hurt! That...” She spun around glowering, but then she paused. She took a step back, eyes like saucers.

“I’m guessing you don’t remember us meeting yesterday?” Bellamy quizzed, though he was unsurprised.

“Oh my god. Oh my _god_...?”

“Yeah, you were pretty drunk and you sort of threw up everywhere. I thought the kindest thi-”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut _up_! Bellamy, how?” Clarke buried her face in her hands. “How has this happened again?”

Bellamy shrugged, not knowing quite what to say.

“God. I... _fuck._ I fucking _hate you_ for _decades_ and then I wake up in your fucking _apartment._ Raven’s gonna find this hilarious but dear _Christ_. _”_

It was as if she was ranting to herself more than she was ranting at him, like she was fighting some kind internal battle. He didn’t know who the hell ‘Raven’ was either. The word ‘hate’ resonated through him, however, causing him to shrink into himself and bite his cheek.

_She has every right to have hated you for all this time._

“Bellamy.”

He looked up into her eyes. Her expression had warped from fury to that of misery.

“Why you?” She slumped back onto the sofa beside him, staring at the ceiling. “Why does it have to be you again?”

“Well that’s rude,” he retorted, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. She did not smile. Instead, she turned to him and punched him square in the jaw.

“After the way you treated me? After the way you went on and on about how you’d missed me and tried to find me but then just fucking turned and walked away?” Tears began to pour down her face. Bellamy rubbed at his throbbing chin, knowing he deserved it. “I’ve been waiting all this time to give you a damned punch in the face, you piece of shit!”

“I’m sorry!” he managed, tongue hurting from where the punch had slammed his teeth into it. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

She snorted. “Sure. Sure you’re sorry. You broke my heart when you walked away from me that night. I thought you were my friend. I thought you’d stay.” Her voice broke, the choked words knifing Bellamy through the heart.

He sighed a deep, long sigh, trying hard to withhold tears. “I dreamt every day about finding you after that day you got taken by the cops. I put us into different scenarios every time; I wondered what I’d say or do if I saw you again. I loved you, Clarke. To find out after all that time that you had fallen in love with someone who wasn’t me...it killed me. I _know_ I was selfish. More selfish to you than anyone has probably ever been. But not a day has gone by where I haven’t regretted walking away from you.”

He wiped his tears on the back of his sleeve and stood.

“I understand if you hate me. I understand if you want to leave and never see me again. I just wanted to make sure you had somewhere safe to stay last night, that’s all.”

He pointed to the door. Clarke remained silent and unmoving.

“...Clarke?”

“Finn ended up cheating on me not long after you and I had met at the infirmary. He left me in the gutter after stealing all of my money too. I was so alone.” She was sobbing. She curled her legs up to her chest and hid her face between her knees. “I needed someone then, Bellamy. You could have been there.”

Bellamy dropped onto the sofa and dragged her into his arms.

“I don’t deserve forgiveness. I don’t deserve your respect. I am so, so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through all that on your own. I fucked up. I fucked up because I loved you and it hurt too much that you didn’t love me.”

“Bellamy, I always loved you. I _have_ always loved you. But you have to understand that no one can sit around waiting for the one they love if they don’t show up to be loved. You have to get that?”

Bellamy threw his head back against the couch. “I do! I do. As I said, I was a selfish dick. I can’t excuse what I did.”

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Both stared into space, contemplating where their lives had taken them and who they had become over the hundreds of years that they had been alive.

“We’re _such_ idiots,” Clarke finally announced, not breaking her gaze from the ceiling.

“Huh?”

“Bellamy, we’re such _idiots._ ” She grabbed his cheeks with one hand and yanked his face round so that she could see it. “We’ve met each other _three times._ ”

Bellamy wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be getting at. Her fingers pressed deeper into his skin. “What?”

Clarke groaned loudly and let go, raking her hands through her hair.

“We’ve met three times and we’re arguing like this about love and loving each other and all that crap. Don’t you see? Why are we this hung up on each other after meeting three times? It’s ridiculous!”

Finally, he understood. It was true; it didn’t make any sense that he felt this way about her. She had just been a princess he’d met on a whim. She’d just been a thief who’d he’d seen again after a hundred years. Then again a hundred years later. Now once _again_ decades later than that. They couldn’t just be coincidences. Of all the people in the world... Not only that, but this girl he’d only met a few times was one that he longed for and craved and loved so _so_ badly.

Bellamy snapped back to reality to find Clarke leaning towards him, gazing at his lips. His heart beat quickened, thudding against his ribs. He felt hot, but the good kind of hot that comes from wanting someone so badly just to _touch you._

“There’s a reason why we’re so drawn to each other, both physically and emotionally,” Clarke whispered, reaching her hand up and stroking his face gently. He leant into the touch and quivered. “I can’t tell you what that reason is, but seeing you each of those times and feeling the way I do about you...it’s reason enough.”

He grasped at her hand, holding it against his cheek. It was still sore from her punch, but he bore the pain so that he could savour the skin-on-skin contact.

“I missed you every day,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her towards him. “I missed you like you should miss someone you’ve been married to for a lifetime. Like someone you’ve known for forever.”

She placed her other hand on his other cheek, moving herself so her forehead rested against his.

“I missed you too.” With that, their lips crushed together and they kissed deeply and feverishly. It was as though neither could get enough and was reminiscent of their first kiss all those hundreds of years ago. Goosebumps erupted across Bellamy’s skin as he drunk her in: every scent; every curve; every strand of golden hair that he felt as his fists clenched it in tufts. Her moans into his mouth caused vibrant flashbacks to when her lips tasted like champagne and strawberries. He swept his tongue across her mouth and tasted...her. Nothing but Clarke and nothing more than what he wanted. He dragged her onto his lap so that she was straddling him, and immediately regretted that decision because he felt her heat grinding down on his restrained but very hard cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, taking her bottom lip ( _that bottom lip_ ) into his mouth. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Clarke.”

“No shit,” she chuckled, biting his lip in return. He gave her what he knew was a shit-eating grin, and to punish her for trying to be funny he pushed his crotch hard against her whilst moving his mouth onto her neck. Clarke threw her head back and moaned again. Bellamy swore into her neck and swirled circles with his tongue.

“Good morning!” came a shrill, mock-cheerful salutation from behind them. The two broke apart and Bellamy had to grab Clarke before she fell from his lap and smacked her head on the table.

“O,” Bellamy wailed, shoving his face into his hands in embarrassment. “O, why did you have to do that?”

“Because however much I love you, I have to sit on that sofa and I really don’t want it to smell like sex, thanks.”

 “But O, do you know who this is?”

Octavia considered Clarke for a moment, cocking her head to the side. “Big brother, the walls in this apartment are thin. I think everyone knows about you and your long lost lover.” She winked and stuck her tongue out.

Bellamy groaned, but this time in irritation. He turned to Clarke.

“Sorry...This is my sister, Octavia.”

Clarke gave a small wave, her cheeks bright red and her eyes looking anywhere but Octavia. The girl in question pranced forward and took Clarke’s hand in her own.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, princess!”

Clarke shot Bellamy a look. Bellamy could only shrug and smile.

It was the widest he’d smiled in a long, long time.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the M rating is coming soon, I promise. It might turn into an E rating, I'm still not sure...but I'm sure you'll find out ;) 
> 
> Keep those comments coming! I love hearing your feedback and feelings about the fic :D x


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